Gone
by kaniele
Summary: Buffy needs to say goodbye. Repost r/r


Gone by Ellie

Email: kaniele@eircom.net 

Summary: Buffy needs to say goodbye. Answer to Challenge in a can.

Rating: R

Disclaimer: they ain't mine, just the fic is!

Faith, Picture, Lonely.

I drag my bags down the hall trying desperately to ignore the stench. I wonder why I'm here and I wonder why I picked a place like this to stay. I can afford better. 

I remember why. This is a dirty time, a dirty mission therefore it deserves a dirty room. I don't feel like living it up. I don't feel like that a lot these days. I can't, I've succumbed to the world disease that is self-indulgence. I turn my nose up at the peeling walls and the damp corners and I indulge myself a little more. I left Sunnydale a few hours ago. I wanted to leave last night, to give me time I guess. But once again the big suck fest that is my life interfered. I came away from the fight victorious. I never tell anyone but sometimes I wish I wasn't as good as I was. Sometimes I wish it would stop and I would have peace. 

Until that "good day" I'll fight and I'll win.

I'm nervous. Tomorrow I have to fight a battle that I don't think I'll win. I don't think anyone will win this battle. 

A battle of wills

A war of nerves 

I find my room and twist the key in the lock. It's rusty and it sticks but I'm strong so it turns. Despite its dim décor it's actually all right. A bed, a bathroom with a toilet that flushes and onlyno three cockroaches. Nice luxury if you can get it. I dump the bags on the floor. I don't have much; I don't plan on staying long. Walking to the window I pull open the curtain and gasp at the beauty that is LA. I cough as I choke back a snigger. 

_Did I just think that? _I gaze at the tall buildings and my eyes glaze over. The little twinkling lights shimmer and sparkle like a Christmas tree. It's strange; I grew up here. I lived here for fifteen years of my short life and yet it's not home. I guess it's true, no one really belongs in LA. Suits me fine I don't live here. I walk away from the window and sit on the bed. 

_Too soft, _I spot a phone and I contemplate on ringing Angel. He said he'd come tomorrow if I wanted him too. He didn't say it out loud but I could tell what he was thinking. 

_She needs to do this by herself. _I can't think why, I have no business here; any ties with this god-less place have long since been cut. But my past will always find a loophole, some way to drag me back and "face" my past. Willow said it was something that needed to be done and I guess if I thought logically about it, I would have to agree. But the fact that I am a girl who is a slayer and has the strength of about ten men if I put my butt into it means logic doesn't really factor. I twist my long blonde hair around a finger and lie back. I lift my head a little and my stomach tightens and my hipbones protrude. 

_Huh? I guess she was right. _Willow mentioned it to me. She said I was getting thin. Giles noticed too but he didn't dare say it directly. He knows not to incur the wrath of a woman when it comes to the weight issue. He learned that lesson when Anya was eight months pregnant and turned or rather waddled sideways and asked if she had lost her looks, if she was fat? Giles ever the diplomat tried to tactfully say that while she was a little "stout" she glowed magnificently. Many stock lists had to be rewritten after several rather pricey items crashed to the floor. Anya maintains it was a fluke accident, Xander however walked on eggshells for weeks in mortal fear that his wife had once again regained her powers. 

I smile at the memory. I haven't done that in a while. It feels unfamiliar and wrong. Too many things have happened to allow me the pleasure of a smile but I smile anyway. No ones here and no one can see me so why hide it? I lie there for a few minutes not really thinking about anything. I hear a scraping sound on the floor and slipping off my shoe I let it fall to the ground and grimace with satisfaction at the crunch. I'm gonna need a new pair of shoes. I laugh out loud. You stay in a bug-infested room that you'll probably catch a million STDs from when you take a shower and you're getting all girly over a pair of shoes. Get real Summers. I groan and get up slowly. 

The phone is tempting me to call him. Call Angel; tell him you need him. He'll come, he'll support, he'll make you miserable and elated and you'll feel like a girl. No, sorry mind. No can do. I sigh heavily and stand in the middle of the room. I have ten hours before I gotta be where I gotta be. There's a TV in the corner, I could watch some in house porno. Nah, haven't the stomach for the since I saw that Amelia film with Angel. Boy did that help with the sexual tension. I flip it on anyway and start to unpack my bedclothes to the sounds of fakin' it moans and groans. I steal a glance and catch sight of a well-muscled butt. 

Hmmoh wait that's a woman. I guess it's wrestling porno or something and turn back. I lay out my nightclothes. They are Hello Kitty pajamas. Dawn and Tara bought them for me on a trip to the mall. I don't know why I brought them; they look funny against the murky vista that is motel accommodation. I guess it was my sub-conscious butting in. Trying to make the best of a bad situation. 

This is bad. I wonder wistfully why I haven't cried yet. Can I cry about this? Do I want to? It's strange but I almost feel emptiness, like a part of me is gone. I didn't feel like this the last time. Was it because of the connection? The experiences we shared together. The death, the loneliness, the feeling that no matter what you were an outsider. I sigh again. It's after one. I'm tired. I change into my pajamas and get under the covers. The porno is still on. Apparently the plumber just joined in. I close my eyes and wait for sleep. It doesn't come. 

It's four in the morning now. I feel lonely and wonder if I should call Angel now. I have been strong for long enough. Not much he could do anyway; it's almost dawn. Speaking of Dawn, I think she wanted to come. I don't know why. Maybe to finish things, closure; pop a lid on it all. She was hurt bad in this situation, caught in a deadly crossfire. Because of me, Because of who I am and what I was born into. I shift my position and wiggle my toes. I'm cold guess heating comes extra. I long for day so I can get this over with. So I can rest and put this behind me. Can I? Will I be able to put this behind me? Is it that easy to close a whole chapter of your life? The part of my brain that deals with realism has just shrugged and offers me no answers. Thanks, thanks a lot. 

It's seven thirty. I have learned many new sex positions to try on my non-existent boyfriend. I've also learned that when a gym instructor says its time to stretch it means a good ol' roll in the sack. I gotta stop watching this. It's addictive, like those stupid soaps like All my Children, you know with nudity.

I'm in denial. I can't think about this. I just can't. This whole situation is surreal. Don't ask me why it just is. I have an awfully strong feeling to just run. Run away and hide. I've done it before; I can do it again. I can, I canI can't. My chest feels sore. My breath keeps catching in my throat. I can feel tiny beads of sweat form on my forehead. It's hitting me, isn't it? It's finally hitting me. I think I'm upset. I think I feel sad. I am sad. I'm sad that I didn't come sooner. I'm sad that I let my selfish grief get in the way. I could have saved her. I know I could. I'm talking crap. How exactly could you do that? You felt it happen but it was over in a few seconds. You know it was. 

It's just thatthe bond was so strong. I didn't think it would be this strong. I fumble at the side of my bed and take it out. The picture, the only one I have. Mom took it at Christmas. Things were so simple it seemed. I remember that night so well. It was just before things went bad. I trace the features and remember. So simple, it was all so simple. I fall into an abyss and it goes black. 

I wake with a jolt. Nine forty-five, I better get a move on. I pull myself out of bed and pad along the floor to the bathroom. I pee and brush my teeth. My hair is lank but it doesn't matter. I scrape it back and splash some water on my face. I walk back out of the bathroom and notice the TV. Shit that's been on all night. I'm gonna have to pay for that. I pull on a pair of jeans, boots and a black sweater. I apply no make-up. I look like death, I suppose that's only right considering. I fold my pajamas and place them on the bed. I can pack later. I stuff my wallet into my back pocket, slip on a jacket then walk to the door. It's time to go. 

I hate the smell. It's so sterile but you just know it's only a cover. This place is really the haven for a multitude of diseases. I sit and wait. It's been about half an hour. They keep saying someone will be with me soon. 

I notice a doctor at the end of the hall. Her skin is ebony, her hair gleaming. She walks with a confidence I pretend to have and a presence that's magnificent. She approaches and I stand. "Ms Summers?" "Yeah, I mean yes." She smiles slightly. "Come with me please." I follow and watch as she places a pile of forms in front of me. "Did you know?" She asks. "Huh?" "That you were the next of kin" she elaborates. "Uh, we discussed it but I didn't think" I lie. She smiles again. "Would you like to see the body now?" No! I scream silently. "Sure" I nod. I follow her feeling like an awkward puppy. We walk into a large room. All I see are stainless steel cupboards. 

I know these places well. At the end of the room is a table. There's a crisp white sheet on it. It's all bumpy. My chest starts to hurt again. I take tiny steps towards it. The doctor is already there. She has a mask of understanding on but I know she's silently telling me to hurry the fuck up. Before I know it, the awful moment has arrived. I nod slightly and the sheet is pulled up and back. 

I feel like I'm going to be sick. She's pale, blue, bloated. I feel faint. I need to get out of here. My hand reaches out and I touch her hair. It's silky, not like mine. I panic and look down. There they are. The war wounds. The abrasions are pink looking; she obviously tied it tightly. What did she use? Maybe a belt? I can't believe I'm thinking this and I will myself to stop. Stop, stop, stop, STOP!

I pull my hand back and nod at the doctor. She replaces the sheet and gestures at me to follow. I do and as I reach the door I turn back. She's dead. Faith is really dead. And I wasn't there to save her. Could I save her? Really? My answer is yes. Did I want to? My answer is not to be revealed.

End.


End file.
